


In the Eye of the Storm

by Kirito_Potter



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Book 2: Wayward Son, Fluff and Angst, Hanging Out, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirito_Potter/pseuds/Kirito_Potter
Summary: Shepard glances around the table for a moment before launching into another one of his stories. "Did I ever tell you guys about the wood nymph who stole my boxers? I mean, it was already kind of a shitty day, because that morning I bumped into a sprite-- and by bumped into, I mean it dragged me into its territory and tried to tell me I was fair game now…"Simon reaches over to my plate and snatches a fistful of my chips. I pretend to swat his hand away, but I'm laughing.





	In the Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't see the tag, spoilers for Wayward Son! It probably won't make sense unless you haven't read it.  
This is hard to tag... It technically takes place before the "epilogue" of the book (the beach scene) but after the climax. Because I didnt want to deal with the urgency of the ending. I had this idea as soon as I finished the book, vivid in my mind, so here you go.

**BAZ**

Simon is quiet.

That's to be expected, though. He always seems to hush up when there's food in front of him. He's currently digging into some monstrosity of a burger with bacon and onion rings and hash browns and  _ raspberry jam.  _ It's revolting.

I'd at least have thought he'd ask for the jalapeños off, just because there's already so much going on in there, but he seeks out spicy food like a moth to a flame.

To be fair, he's always had a penchant for spice, but I think it's gotten worse since… since the White Chapel. At first that confused me, since I always assumed his love for spice was a byproduct of his magic. (Smoky. Tingly. Unbearable and pleasant all at once.) But it's occurred to me recently that perhaps his continued love of spice has nothing to do with him losing his magic-- that maybe it's because of his dragon traits.

Or maybe he just genuinely likes spice.

Simon is inhaling the burger, though with some difficulty. It's practically taller than his head, but instead of cutting it or taking smaller bites like a human being, he stretches his mouth to its limit and fits in as much as he can. Ridiculous.

The waitress leans down, setting my plate of pork chops on the table, and I nearly moan.

"Fuck, that smells good," I groan.

She laughs, and I give her an apologetic look.

"Pardon my French."

The second she's left the table, still giggling, I tear into my meal. I actually am moaning now. It's not the best food I've ever had, but I'm starving, so there's not much of a difference.

Bunce says something to my left. Agatha doesn't respond. She hasn't done much of anything in a few hours. Just sits there, still a little grey. (Not the way I am. Thank magic.) (I really was worried for a minute, considering it was vampires who kidnapped her.) (Well, it wasn't exactly a kidnapping at first. She went willingly. They just didn't let her leave. And then they bound and gagged her.)

After an awkward silence, Shepard laughs at Bunce's comment in Agatha's place. When the silence returns, he glances around the table for a moment before launching into another one of his stories. "Did I ever tell you guys about the wood nymph who stole my boxers? I mean, it was already kind of a shitty day, because that morning I bumped into a sprite-- and by bumped into, I mean it dragged me into its territory and tried to tell me I was fair game now…"

Simon reaches over to my plate and snatches a fistful of my chips. I pretend to swat his hand away, but I'm laughing, and he grins at me as he shoves them in his mouth. Almost immediately, he makes a face, and I remember he must not have heard me ask for the truffle parmesan seasoning; he ran to the loo as soon he'd blurted out his order. His pinched expression at the taste only makes me laugh harder.

"What in Morgana's name--" he manages, then cuts himself off, shaking his head violently as if to rid himself of the flavour.

"It's truffle," I snort.

He frowns. "Trifle? Trifle chips? That's gross. You ruined dessert and chips in one go."

" _ Tru-ffle _ ," I say slowly, still smiling from ear to ear.

"Like the chocolate?" He asks, looking hesitant.

I snicker. "No! It's mushroom!"

He gags.

I take a chip as well, reveling in the crunch it makes. The seasoning is absolutely worth the upcharge.

Bunce takes a few, too, then offers one to Agatha. She shakes her head. Shepard takes Agatha's and another handful, still talking about standing pantsless in a field of poppies.

I wipe my hands on the napkin and dive back into the pork, sighing happily. As much as this trip has fucked us up, I have to admit that Americans make good food. (Well, they have their moments. This is one of them.)

I'm bringing my fork to my mouth when Simon's voice breaks through, muffled by bread and cheese and meat and jam and onion and peppers. "Baz?"

I pause, meeting his eyes.

They're wide. He's lifted his eyebrows. His jaw is dropped, which I'd normally scold him for because of the way he's showing off all his half-chewed food, but his expression is urgent. Well, not urgent exactly. Urgent in Simon's way of being urgent: slow realisation, building into horror, building into blustering shock.

"Yes?" I ask carefully.

"You…" His face is haunted. "Your…"

I hesitate, fork wavering. "What?"

He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing more dramatically than I've ever seen it.

"Simon," I say softly, "are you alright?" I try to subtly glance around the restaurant, checking to see if someone is stalking us. It'd hardly be a surprise after this week.

"Your teeth."

I frown, confused. "What--"

It hits me.

I nearly drop my fork. I can feel the warmth draining from my face. Bunce and Shepard are looking now, too. Even Agatha looks a little surprised.

I set my utensils down. I can't look Simon in the eyes.

"Baz," he says again. "When did you…?"

I bite my lip. "With Lamb."

I can't tell if he's upset or not. "I don't understand."

"He said--" My voice cracks, and I notice my eyes are watering. "He said it's… an animal response. He said, 'you're not an animal.' I'm--" my throat is too tight to speak for a moment-- "not an animal."

Shepard raises his hand, like he wants the professor to call on him. "Do you mean your fangs?"

"Not so loud!" Bunce hisses, but I don't care. She didn't ask me, but I don't care.

"I thought vampires could control them," Shepard says. It's salt in the wound.

"Yes," I murmur. "And so can I. Now." I look down at my plate. "I've been practicing. It hardly takes any effort anymore."

Everyone falls quiet again. (Except for Agatha, who was quiet all along.)

I've just said that I'm  _ not an animal, _ but I feel like a lion pacing in a cage. The main exhibit at the zoo. They won't stop staring. Simon and Bunce and Wellbelove because they didn't know it was possible. Shepard because he did.

A soft hand touches my shoulder. Simon is smiling. "Hey. Look at me."

I don't want to, but I do want to. I want his blue eyes to swallow me up, hold me close, keep me safe. So I look.

"That's amazing," he laughs. "Do you have any idea how amazing that is? You're amazing, Baz." His eyes are so warm. "I mean, you've always been amazing, but… I can't believe it. I always think I've seen it all, and you blow me away all over again."

I can't even open my mouth. My chin wobbles too hard.

His breath smells like onions, but I kiss him anyway.

Simon's palms are warm on my cheeks, and his lips are searing. It's been so long since he kissed me like this. I lean into it like I need it to survive. It feels like I might.

When Simon pulls back, I lean forward a bit before I can stop myself, like a compass drawn to North.

He smiles. "I…" His cheeks go pink, making his freckles look lighter than they are. "Nevermind."

"What?" I murmur, taking his hand.

He meets my eyes again. Looking at him is like being home.

"I--" He shakes his head, giggling in embarrassment. "You're bloody brilliant, that's all." He squeezes my hand. "And fucking hot, too."

I snort, and he falls into my side so naturally I almost don't question it. I run a hand through his newly-trimmed curls. They've regained their shine, soft between my fingers.

"I love you," I breathe.

He nods into my shoulder, making an affirmative noise. He's blushing harder now.

I reach for my fork again.


End file.
